


a thousand moments

by sydneygremlins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abstract, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Introspection, M/M, and i wrote a bit of it down and OH BOY am i quite happy w the result, im feeling a LOT abt the finale right now. dont touch me, is speculative an accurate tag, the idea came to me at like. 3am?, uhhhhh idk what to tag this, what does speculative MEAN as a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:40:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28609188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sydneygremlins/pseuds/sydneygremlins
Summary: There are a thousand different ways the realisation is finally reached, a thousand different moments where one word changed would send ripples through the whole timeline, branching out in so many ways. There are a thousand different moments where eyes are locked and hands are clenched tightly to avoid reaching out, when breaths mingle and when it would be so easy to close the distance. When tension is thick in the air and nobody wants to bring it up, when ‘I’m so sorry,’ is ever so close from falling from someone’s mouth. ‘I’m so sorry, please forgive me, I never meant to hurt you.’
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	a thousand moments

**Author's Note:**

> gentle readers.... i apologise sincerely

There are a thousand first kisses.

Some are rushed, in dim alleys and parked cars, a hasty movement of hands, a rustle of clothing, then a mutter of  _ we need to go,  _ followed by lingering glances and hands fisted in pockets, worrying the seams. They’re half-lit scramblings and sloppy movements filled with emotion.

Some are slow, tender, explorative, knuckles brushing cheeks and jaws, eyes closed, relaxed, breathing steadily until fingers find sensitive places on necks and dual breaths hitch in tandem. Warm undercurrents of affection run through these, shown in lazy half-lidded smiles and foreheads gently bumped together.

Some are scenic, in cavernous churches and warmly-lit woods, pretty sunlight arcing into hair and eyes, setting green and blue ablaze together, joined hands and smiles playing along lips that are quickly set to alternate uses. 

Some are far from picturesque: bloodied hands and grime-smeared faces, smoking guns and stained blades, a last touch of a lover before the world falls apart, a last grain of hope as sand falls in the hourglass, when the world seems so desolate.

There are a thousand different ways the realisation is finally reached, a thousand different moments where one word changed would send ripples through the whole timeline, branching out in so many ways. There are a thousand different moments where eyes are locked and hands are clenched tightly to avoid reaching out, when breaths mingle and when it would be so  _ easy _ to close the distance. When tension is thick in the air and nobody wants to bring it up, when  _ I’m so sorry _ , is ever so close from falling from someone’s mouth.  _ I’m so sorry, please forgive me, I never meant to hurt you.  _

In only one world is it Castiel who is chosen to save Dean Winchester, only one world where he falls for him and Falls for him. A one in a million chance, from the fluttering of a butterfly’s wings, and now two souls are entwined, held tightly together in their very essence, even when they do not know it. Two souls who have changed the world around them, two vats of swirling essence of love and low self-esteem, who have slain monsters and saved lives.

A one in a million chance.

There are a thousand moments where Castiel could reach out. Moments where he wanted so desperately to card his hand through Dean’s hair, to hold the back of his neck, to inch closer so they could sit side by side, and there are a thousand moments to match where he bit down the urge, where he denied himself his true happiness in simple contact, in the gentle touch of another who would not leave him, who would stay and love him even through turmoil, even through falls from grace and deadly mistakes and slammed doors.

There are a thousand moments where Dean could reach out. Where he stared at the hunched figure of Cas, crying silently at loss after loss, and wanted to pull him into a tight embrace, where he wanted to lay lips to his temple and run hands down his chest, where he dearly wanted to ease Cas’ sorrow. And alongside these moments is the sadness, the heaviness in his heart knowing he could never do such a thing, and a moment of repression, of being too afraid to accept the love Castiel was giving, of being too afraid he would leave, of being too used to love being surface-level.

And now, now. As the world is rent into pieces, as all feeling leaves Dean Winchester’s heart like steam blown from hot tea, as he can only stare in horror as Castiel sacrifices himself to save the world. To save him. 

Not much of a save if he doesn’t have Cas.

“Don’t do this, Cas,” is all he can say. “Why does this sound like a goodbye?” is all he can ask. Not what he wants to ask. Never what he wants to ask.

_ I love you too _ , he wants to say.  _ Can you stay? _ he wants to ask. But words fail, right when they’re most important.

“Goodbye, Dean.” 

The expression Cas wears as he is consumed by darkness is too loving, too resigned to a terrible fate, too self-sacrificial, too tear-stained, and the heat boils to the top and emotion comes crashing down: wave after wave of realisation and rage and terrifying grief, until Dean feels like he’s drowning in it, until all he can do is sink to the floor and sob, until the only coherent thought in his mind is  _ no _ . 

It’s not okay. It can’t be okay, not ever again. Not without him.

Dean cries until his throat is raw, until the physical pain brings him back to reality. The brick is hard against his back, which is bruised from the force of his tumble into it. 

He wants Cas. He wants Cas more than anything. He wants Cas more than the sun wants the canvas of the sky to paint beautiful sunsets. More than the howling wolves want the moon, more than the skyward birds want the warmth of summer. Even for all this distance and even though Cas is gone, he feels a pull in his gut, a whisper–  _ find him, find him _ – a draw to Cas so strong that not even gods could stand in their way. He’ll damn sure make sure they can’t, even if they try.

He wipes his eyes and stands, unsteady on his feet.

There are a thousand moments.

A thousand steady gazes, a thousand quiet reassurances, a thousand stolen touches, a thousand silent wishes. There are a thousand fights and a thousand  _ wars _ , a thousand worries and a thousand reunions. There are a thousand gentle embraces and a thousand rough chokeholds. There are a thousand tears and a thousand bleary-eyed mornings. A thousand kicking feet under motel tables, a thousand sudden disappearances with the sound of fluttering wings, a thousand crappy burgers and a thousand beautiful starry skies.

A thousand is too few.

**Author's Note:**

> @ al hope u enjoy ur surprise fic <3
> 
> I’m on tumblr! you can find me at Sydneygremlins, same as here :D
> 
> comments r appreciated


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